Could Never Be Gone
by Webstergem
Summary: John is having a hard time getting over Sherlock's death, and even thinking about giving up. Until a special someone shows up in his flat one day after work. SMUT. That is my warning. Swearing. Eventual GRAPHIC SEX. Don't like? Don't read. TAGS: virgin!Sherlock, first time, broken!John
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys, this chapters a little short. And SLASHY! Mentions of Johnlock relationship. It's a little one-sided...so far. HEE HEE! Write more later. Oh, and also I'm thinking about writing a Supernatural (DESTIEL) story, so if you guys have a prompt, now would be the time to say it! Post the prompt as a review for ANY STORY and i'll get right to it!**

The cup hit the wooden table with a clank, followed my the splish of the whiskey that pooled into the crystal. John's hand involuntarily raised the glass to his lips and let the flaming liquid rolled down his throat, making his brain fuzzy. He welcomes the filling of his mind that the drink gave, and he sat in his armchair.

After the drink he stood, putting the glass back on the table. The opposing armchair caught his eye and he could feel the memories flood him.

Sherlock in the lab, eyes pressed the microscope, Sherlock at the crime scene, his deadpan deductive tone as he solved the case top to bottom right in front of our eyes. Sherlock in his bed, his long arms curled around John's stomach as John spoons him.

John didn't even realize he had moved until he came back to reality, his shoulders heaving with sobs as his tears wet the chair cushions. He had always known that he hadn't gotten over Sherlock's death.

He had always known he would never see Sherlock again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello, again! This is chapter two. No really slashy stuff for this chapter, but the second character in the story does arrive...(hint, hint). Anyway, another notice on the Supernatural (DESTIEL) prompt, so seriously guys, I LOVE PROMPTS! Just put them in a review and I get started right away.**

It had been another long day at the clinic, pesky patients left and right, complaining about there disabilities and illnesses. _How can I help them when I can't help my self?_

John dusted off Sherlock's empty armchair just to give himself something to do besides drink. He tried to stop his tears, but they just fell, rolling down his cheeks and onto the floor as his knees stopped holding his weight.

"_John," _he heard a whisper behind him, and John abruptly turned to the source of the noise.

There he was. The dead man. Standing in the middle of the flat. He wore a black hoodie, his curls a mess on top of his head. He had dark skinny jeans that in any other situation would have sent John's mouth watering. His eyes blue eyes screamed apologies without words.

"Oh dear god…Sherlock….." John stood, but found himself unable to stand, collapsing back against the wall, "What…..what the fuck?!"

A crystal tear rolled down his cheek, "John, I am so, so sorry. Let me explain…."

"No, let me explain!" John pushed himself off the wall, strength returned, "I…..I saw you die! I saw you bleed out on the pavement, and there was nothing I could do! Do you know what I've been through these past three years?!"

For the first time that John can recount, Sherlock wouldn't meet his eyes. "Yes," he whispered to the floor.

"I have thought about giving up! About losing my life to join you!" John approached Sherlock, "You selfish, heartless BASTARD!" He lashed out, Sherlock's pristine cheekbone connecting with his fist. He punched him, again and again, tears streaming down his face.

And Sherlock let him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Just so you guys know, the smut does not end at the end of this chapter. In fact, there is more smut in the next chapter. So keep reading if you like that kind of stuff. And hey, another reminder of the Supernatural prompt! I'm serious about this, guys. If you want to see some kind of Destiel story, give me the prompt and I'll write it. Anyway, I'll update everything soon!**

John set the bag of ice against Sherlock's nose, his doctor motive returned, without the comforting words. Actually, John was completely silent.

"John, please." Sherlock whispered, the tears still fall in. John sighed and sat back on the sofa.

"Right, then. Explain yourself." John's voice was laced with distrust, which was worse than the anger, in a way.

Sherlock took a deep breath, "I did it to protect you, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock said.

John raised his eyebrows.

"Moriarty and I were on the roof. He told me that if I didn't jump, the snipers would shoot you, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade. And I told him that there must be a call-off for the snipers. And he said that I would never figure it out. And I said that I didn't need to figure it out, as long as I had him." Sherlock sighed, and realized throughout the recounting of his story, John had slid closer to him.

He started again, "And he said "Good luck with that," and shot himself. I was panicked. When you arrived, I knew that I had to make it count. So I made it look like a suicide so you wouldn't know….and you wouldn't get hurt."

"Sherlock…why did you come back?" John was crying again.

"Because I could never be gone for long. My mind, the only truly solid thing in my life beside you, started betraying me, and I knew I couldn't take it anymore. John, I am so, SO, sorry." Sherlock pulled John into his arms, and lye back on the couch under the weight, so that John was on top of him.

John couldn't take it anymore, he met Sherlock's lips with his own tenderly. At first, Sherlock grunted with surprise, but after a minute, one of those glorious hands was on the back of his head, and he was moaning into John's mouth.

They broke the kiss, and John stared at Sherlock, porcelain skin flushed, blue eyes blown and darkened. Sherlock whispered, "John….please."

John's brows furrowed, "Are you sure?"

Sherlock nodded, and pulled John down into another heated kiss. Sherlock slipped his hand under John's jumper experimentally, running his fingers over his back and John moaned into Sherlock's mouth, running his tongue over Sherlock's bottom lip, begging for access.

Sherlock let him, and John's tongue entering his mouth and intertwining with his own, he realized, had to be one of the best sensations he had ever felt. Moaning again, he pushed John off him so that he could pull his jumper off. Taking the hint, the black hoodie was gone in a second followed by his tight purple dress shirt, which John smirked at.

John grabbed the taller man's hand, standing up from the couch. Sherlock looked confused, and John explained only with a lustful whisper of "bed." Sherlock understood, and followed John into his bedroom.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys, this is the smut chapter! It's kinda long...any way, it's my first attempt at smut, so please review! And this is also the last chapter, sorry. No more from this story!**

John opened the door and stepped inside, stripping off his socks, and Sherlock followed suit with his shoes and socks, as John turned toward the bed, Sherlock grabbed John's elbow. One sight of Sherlock's hesitant gaze had John all over him.

"What is it, Sherlock?" John asked, looking into his eyes.

Sherlock swallowed thickly, "I've….i've never done this before, John. I don't know what to do."

John laughed, "All you have to do is not think, and FEEL." John cupped Sherlock's cheek, and he leaned into the touch. "But, seriously, you've never had sex before?"

Sherlock shook his head, "As I said earlier, I'm married to my work." Sherlock flopped onto the bed, spreading his legs and lifting one eyebrow seductivly, "But we should talk later. I believe we were in the middle of something."

John's eyes darkened and the way his gaze raked over Sherlock's body made him shiver, and suddenly Sherlock's pants felt a little too tight.

John positioned himself on the bed so he was kneeling in-between Sherlock's thighs. He leaned over Sherlock and planted a small kiss on his lips, then moved to his ear.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good, Sherlock." John promised in a husky voice, and Sherlock couldn't suppress a gasp and John sucked at his pulse point, moving farther and farther down Sherlock's chest, licking and sucking.

When Sherlock felt the wet, hot feeling of John's lips on his nipple he moaned, arching into the touch. Then Sherlock thought of how it would feel with those lips on his….

_Oh god, _he shouldn't have thought that. John continued lower and lower until he got to the waistband of Sherlock's trousers. With a devious grin up to Sherlock, he stuck a finger down past it, so he could rub the sensitive skin on his hips.

Sherlock gasped and rolled his hip up to John, who slowly unbuckled the front of Sherlock's trousers, pulling them down, along with his underwear. Sherlock lifted his hips to help, and moaned when his increasingly hard member made contact with the cool air of the bedroom.

"Wait a moment," John got off the bed and opened his beside drawer. _Two can play this game, _Sherlock realized. He reached up under the drawer and started to palm John through his trousers.

"_Oh god, _Sherlock," John moaned as he set a small bottle on the table. Taking advantage, Sherlock grabbed John's hips and pulled him onto the bed, scrambling so that he was between John's thighs, John's eyes wide with anticipation.

Sherlock slowly unbuckled John's trousers, copying what the army doctor had done earlier. John groaned in frustration and rolled his hips up toward Sherlock impatiently. As soon as John was free, he tried to remember the fantasy he had had earlier in the night, and wetting his lips, took John in his mouth.

"HOLY JESUS FUCK!" John shouted, bucking his hips again, but Sherlock held him down, bobbing his head up and down a few times, before hollowing his cheeks and _sucking._

"_Oh god, _Sherlock, I'm not gonna last long if you keep doing _that_." John moaned, and Sherlock bobbed his head one more time before coming off with a sharp pop.

"_Jesus, _Sherlock, that was amazing." John gasped. Sherlock flipped them over so that John was on top again, causing there erections to grind, and they both moaned loudly.

"John, please." Sherlock begged, and John nodded, grabbing the bottle off the bedside table that he had grabbed earlier, opened it, put something on his fingers, rubbed it around, and then looked at Sherlock, "Ready?"

Sherlock nodded, and John slowly pushed a finger inside, watching as Sherlock's face contorted in pleasure. "_Oh god, _John, _more."_

John hastily replied, pushing another finger in and scissoring them, causing Sherlock to arch his back and moan John's name, and John's member twitched in anticipation, still hard.

John leaned over Sherlock and whispered in his ear, "You've been such a good little boy, I think you deserve a treat, "John curled his fingers up to touch Sherlock's prostate, and Sherlock _shouted._

"OH GOD!" Sherlock fucked himself back onto John's fingers, hoping for more of that, and whimpered when John pulled out to lube up his cock.

"Ready?" John asked Sherlock as he lined himself up. Sherlock nodded, eyes blown wide. When John pushed in, his head fell back against the headboard and loud moan escaped his lips. John started with slow, short thrusts, but out of the blue, Sherlock grabbed his hips, "Please John, _please." _He begged.

John pushed harder, shorter thrusts as his arousal built. The feeling of Sherlock clenched around him, he member inside his tight heat, he thrust with his anger at Moriarty, his sorrow of Sherlock's death, and he thrust like he _meant it._

"_Oh god more more more,_" Sherlock moaned, and John angled his hips up to hit Sherlock's prostate, and Sherlock shouted, "John! John, I'm gonna….."

"Come on Sherlock, come for me. Paint your stomach with you own, hot seed." John hissed, and that sent Sherlock over the edge. He screamed, fingernails digging into John's hips as he came all over his own stomach.

The clench of Sherlock's ass and the heat of his come almost sent John over the edge, but it wasn't enough. Sherlock noticed and tried to help.

Sherlock moaned, "Come on, John, I want to feel you come inside me. I want to feel your hot seed dripping out of me all night long."

John came _hard, _filling Sherlock up, and nearly collapsed on top of him. Instead, he slid out, flopping next to him. Sherlock sighed, and John noticed the come all over Sherlock's stomach. He propped himself up on his elbow, and _slowly _licked the come off. He could feel Sherlock's breathing get raspy again, and his voice husky as he said, "Ready for round two?"

John smiled, "I've got nothing better to do."


End file.
